


Perimeter

by alyssabtw



Category: our 2nd life
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No YouTube, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyssabtw/pseuds/alyssabtw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kendra Wood constantly has something going on in her life, whether it's good or bad. Mostly petty drama with the girls all fighting for guys attention. But then a few days before her highschool career is over, she realizes that she's been hanging out with the wrong crowd for basically her whole life. There's a whole group of people she's never even met over four whole years, and maybe this is the chance for her to meet them. Having to sit next to Ricky Dillon at the last pep rally of the year brings on a whole new summer she's never experienced, and it'll be a little awkward, a little exciting, and mostly a time where she's genuinely happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is actually my first fic I plan on sticking too, so I hope you enjoy it! This first chapter will be a little short because it's just a prologue, but I'm posting the first real chapter just after I do this one.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> **This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! Everyone's YouTube career is non existent, and I'm just using their personalities! I love Ricky like a lot a lot and he is one of the most genuine people on Earth, and that's why I'm kind of borrowing his personality and body and everything hahaha.  
> OH AND ALSO, the main character Kendra is pictured as Isabelle Fuhrman (you might know her as District 2's female tribute from The Hunger Games), google her! Everyone else is just themselves =]

I wish someone had told me what my life was going to turn out like, you know, like a book? Just starting in one place and finishing it. Simple as that. Maybe even more simple: like making life a magazine, you can read a few articles, look at the pictures, and think about them for a few minutes. Look at the travel ads and be like "Wow! I went to (insert strange location here)!", or see some hot guys and assume you're dating them (or hooked up with them) and thought to yourself about how damn lucky you are.

But unfortunately, wishing for this can't happen (like ever). Because you're literally living your little magazine or book of a life, and with memories, it's impossible to flip back a few pages. You can think about them, but you can't go live them a second time and feel the exact same things. As much as you stare at the blank little section of your wall where your pictures used to be, look at your old texts, or see a new status show up on his wall; something will always be off and you won't feel the same. Memories are just that, memories.

Like all of these memories I try to remind myself are memories that I think of, right here, in my bed, doing all the things I've already listed. Staring at that blank little section of my wall where our pictures used to be, looking at our old texts, and seeing you update your status to "Frozen yogurt! -with Carolyn Foster". It sucks. Night time sucks. It's when you allow all of these stupid thoughts to rise out of the depths of wherever your feelings are, bringing some friends too, all ganging up on you telling you about how shitty of a person you are or handing stories out about how your past relationship ended. All these thoughts, but for what? Why do they only come at night, giving you a good day but then the little payback of sadness, no matter all the good deeds you've done. 

It's currently 5 in the morning, I have to get ready for school in an hour, and I've gotten maybe 30 minutes of sleep. I'm pretty sure I might be breaking the "no same feelings" thing, because I think I feel the same amount of regret as I did yesterday when I stayed up just as late.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First real chapter! Be sure to enjoooy =]
> 
> *follow me on twitter! I'm usually @frickingtrevor, but I'm currently @collegepeeta because I'm just switching things up.

Trying to keep my eyes open, I lay and watch the numbers on my phone switch until my alarm goes off; and once it does I’m turning it off as quick as humanly possible. It used to be my favorite song, but after waking up to it (and even hearing it in my dreams) for the whole entire school year, I’ve grown to hate it. Like, really hate it, with as much passion as anyone ever ever could. More than I hate tomatoes or the threat of sleeping with the windows open. But with literally three days left of my whole entire public school education, I deal. Three more days of this shitty song, and five more days of this shitty school. Three more days to this sleep schedule being socially acceptable, three more days of being surrounded by fake people that you have no option but to be friends with. And then, the most glorious summer anyone could ask for (hopefully).

But in the meanwhile, I’ve been thinking about this whole ‘three more days’ thing enough to where I hear my house wake up (Dad complaining about the lack of bagels, and Mom telling him that he can just as well go to the grocery store like her, and then a groaning noise which I assume is my sister waking up to the sounds of my parents having a conversation about bagels) and that’s basically when I get up due to the what I call the ‘get up or your shower will be similar to living in Antarctica’ theory, so I slide the blankets off of my torso while grabbing my towel off a chair and pad into the bathroom. Turning the water on almost scorching hot, I jump in and spend even more time thinking about the three more days, and basically three days later I get out. After wrapping the same towel around my figure, I lean over to grasp my clothes off from the ground and run into my room. 

Getting dressed, I realize that this three more days things is important, because literally no one will care what I’m wearing. Like, it’s the last week most of us will see each other, so who gives a fuck? We’ve already graduated, it’s just a few test taking days and then an assembly. Apparently it’s going to be 80 degrees today, so I just dig some white track shorts out of my bottom drawer (which I think I got in the eighth grade) and tug a loose blue tanktop off a hanger. My hair is in the messiest bun I’ve ever seen it in (because it’s like a literal messy bun, I didn’t try and do it from a tutorial on YouTube). My feet are hidden with all white vans, and after swiping a layer or two of mascara on, I slink downstairs. It appears my dad got over the bagel dilemma (he’s eating toast with approximately five pounds of butter on top), my mom dressed in her scrubs brushing her teeth (half listening to the Today Show that’s blaring all the way from their room), and I assume my sister is still getting ready. I grab a banana and toss the peel in the garbage, managing to do that while eating it. Picking up my essentially weightless backpack and putting it on, I select my keys off the key hook things, and walk out the door.

 

Swinging the school doors open, I cringe as I see the mess of people in the hallway, none of these people my friends or even acquaintances. Great. I mean I’m like, popular, but within my group of friends; which on rare occasions expands to like 30 people, so I’m okay with it. What I’m not okay with is this chunk of people covering every little path I could take to get out of the entrance, the only one there is about to be covered up by this tall guy with probably four feet tall hair. I go for it anyway, the whole ‘three more days’ thing taking over the potentially awkward situation, and I get my phone out to look like I’m doing something while I walk through; and I make it through! My whole entire goal of the day! Or at least what that’s what I wanted to happen, instead I made it through that little group (first goal), but end up somehow slamming my shoulder into that one guy. It probably hurt me more than him, considering he’s basically made out of muscle.  
“I’m sorry.. I just… yeah. Sorry.” I say, continuing my way down the hall. I don’t know how I’ve never seen him before, like, I’ve been here four years. I have three days left and I just now noticed a tall, ripped guy? Is he new? I would ask my friends, but then they’d investigate and probably try and jump his bones, so I just leave it at that. Tall ripped guy with hair taller than his body (maybe). 

 

Draping the walls of the hallways are all either summer school fliers or goodbye posters, and I think I actually feel the dread when I see that the last pep rally is today. I’ve never really liked them, like I mean it’s cool that there’s school spirit, but sitting in bleachers surrounded by literally over a thousand hot, sweaty teenagers is not fun. It’s during third period, so I go to my prior classes, chatting with people I’ll (hopefully) never talk to again, half focusing, and mostly listening to music. It’s the last week of school, not even a week, why even bother? 

Walking with my friend Acacia, we file into the gym and make our way towards the bleachers; which are almost entirely full. I lost Acacia a few steps back, so I just follow the crowd until I find a seat (three more days), and sit. 

“Hi, you ran into me earlier, right?” I hear from my left, and look over, internally cringing. Of course. What is this, a cheesy romance novel?

“Yeah, that was me. Sorry. I really didn’t mean too.” Sort of laughing, sort of murmuring this was my response to him, and he just let’s out a short laugh before talking again.

“Oh, it’s totally fine, happens all the time. It’s highschool, I’m surprised I even remember.” He responds, this easy going smile on his face the whole entire time. Is he high? Why is he so happy?

“Yeah, right?” I sputter, not even sure what to say. I’m social but that’s just in my friend group, I’m useless when it’s someone I’ve never talked too. I begin looking into space, praying he doesn’t respond again, and the pep rally starts. Mentally thanking Jesus, I focus on the girls cheering, guys waving giant flags, and the drill team doing whatever the hell the drill team does. 

“So, do you like, have a name?” The guy, nudging my shoulder, says. Okay.

“Yeah, it’s Kendra. Kendra Wood.” Why did I even say my last name? Do people even use theirs anymore? “In the nicest way possible, how have we never met before? Are you new, showing up on one of the last days of school? Is that allowed?”

He laughs, “I’m not even sure how we haven’t talked. You seem cool, Kendra. I think I’ve seen you around a bit, you’re friends with Acacia, right? We talk sometimes in math.” And she hasn’t tried to make out with him, not even once? This doesn’t seem possible, like, at all.

“Are you talking about Acacia Brinley?” Ricky nods in response. I’m astounded.  
“Yeah. She’s one of my friends. I’m surprised she hasn’t, like,-”

“Jumped my bones? Same.” We both start snickering, and then look back at the floor of the gym. I see him in the corner of my eye lean over to Kian Lawley, and I assume they’re friends because they get along so easily. He turns back to me, introducing me to that guy. “Kendra?”, yelling over the marching band, “This is my best friend Kian!” 

“Oh. Hi.” He’s like, really attractive, like really attractive. But so is the girl I know as his girlfriend, Andrea. Probably all the girls in this school know who Kian is, but he’s always decided to hang out with the group of people that others don’t even  
recognize as a group, and him and Andrea have been inseparable since junior year, so he’s all around off limits. Kian just waves in response to Ricky introducing his, and then proceeds to put him arm around Andrea, showing me that they’re a thing as if I already didn’t know. Trust me kid, I know. 

“So, you have a name, but do you have a phone number?” Ricky cheekily grins, holding up his phone a little. It seems like he has nice, friendly intentions so I just unlock my phone, open contacts and hand my phone over (praying that I don’t get twitter notifications, considering I’ve live tweeted half of this experience). “I’ll take that as a yes, I guess.” He grins, giving me his phone with the same options up. I’m having sudden flashbacks to High School Musical. 

Giving our phones back, almost immediately I get a text saying

**this is a real number, right?**

I laugh for a few seconds before responding with

**no.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg sorry it's so short! It'll get longer soon, I promise! I hope you like it so far, the next chapter will probably be tomorrow =] have a good day/night!


End file.
